


Tusk Love

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Modification, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fjord just needs a hug and an expensive gift, Gen, I designed the item off of a pocket knife and a pen knife, I think it's dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jester is Adorable, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Molly just wants to help, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Yasha is a sweet intimidating buttercup who is trying damn it, but it's just molly using his swords, i think thats all the tags I need really, if its not let me know and i'll take it off, there isn't much to tag on this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: They truly were the ugliest things Fjord had ever seen.“You know,” Molly began, breaking the silence. “There are probably much better things to be addicted to.”This was familiar, this was comfortable, this was right. Why he had even stopped in the first place was a mystery. Fjord turned away from his friend, staring intently at the object in his hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, deciding that he had better things to do than listen to Molly preach self-love.





	Tusk Love

**Author's Note:**

> I am really bad at object descriptions. I don't know why I wrote this, I just got the idea and had to attempt it. This is just a friendly conversation between a purple tiefling, a grumpy half-orc and a too-sweet-for-her-own-good barbarian about tusks and self image issues. Hope you enjoy x

They truly were the ugliest things he had ever seen.

Small, misshapen and uneven nubs that rose to just below his front row of teeth, jagged edges that rub uncomfortably against his lips and that made his gums bleed when he ground down on them too hard and painfully sensitive in the cold. Running his tongue against them, they were bumpy and rocky and unsettlingly _wrong_.

Sighing, Fjord picked up the file, running his fingers over the well-used edge, permanent white dust speckled with red that never cleaned off no matter how much he wiped and washed and soaked. This was familiar, this was comfortable, this was right. Why he had even stopped in the first place was a mystery.

Lifting the file to his lips, he blew on it, watched the faint puff of white fall into the sink. He placed it in his mouth, the familiar back and forth rubbing and fixing comforting in its safety, its protection. The pain had numbed by now but he could taste the coppery-iron taste he had come to associate with metal and blood and renewing old rites.

A flash of purple from the corner of his eye and Fjord turned his head, not stopping in his motions, his deed, to see Mollymauk standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, coat tails still swishing around his ankles from the movement. Fjord grunted his greeting, not pausing his motions, eyes hyper-focused on the task much too important than whatever Molly had come to bother him with this time.

Silence greeted him for a little while, the only sounds the methodical grinding of his tusks and the crunch of the grains under his molars. Finally, Molly sighed, a quiet sad sound, and made his way over to Fjord until his bright purple face reflected in the mirror next to Fjords. Looking at his reflexion, Molly took in the faint dribbles of blood that poured from Fjords lips, the fainter white dust that dotted the green, the determined grinding as Fjords hand shook through the pain until the old, rusted file wobbled in his grip. “You know,” Molly began, breaking the silence. “There are probably much better things to be addicted to.”

Leaning down and spitting into the sink, Fjord glared up at him through his eyelashes, filling his mouth up with water to rid his teeth of the staining red before spitting the blood-tinted water back out, watching it swirl around the cracked basin and down into the drain. “There are worse things too. Like that crap you and Beau took when you were walking around the streets in Zadash. Do you know you ended up at a fuckin cemetery?”

Molly waved a hand, claws glinting faintly in the lamplight. “Semantics.” The smile faded from his lips for a moment, he looked down at the file still clutched in Fjords hand against the sink, still red and white speckled. “You know this isn’t healthy, right?”

“And cutting yourself is?”

Exhaling, Molly rubbed a hand across his face. “I do that because it gives me an edge in a fight.” He said, glaring at the back of Fjords head. “And short, hidden, bleeding, painful and almost ruined tusks give you… what? A higher pain tolerance? Better kissing ability?”

“Higher self-esteem?” Fjord cut in standing upright and whipping the blood off his file with a towel. “Better self-image? More confidence?”

“Ah, my friend.” Molly placed a heavy, firm hand on Fjord shoulder. “You can just get better clothes for that. And tattoos. And piercings. You don’t need to be getting rid of the things that make you who you are to make yourself feel better about it. Just add things and make a better identity. If I did what you do, do you think I’d still have my tail? Or my fangs? Or the split in my tongue? Or my horns?”

Fjord blinked, surprised. “What- “

Raising a hand, Molly cut him off. “I woke up with those things, in a hole in the ground, with _no memory_ of getting them. I wanted them _gone_ , because they weren’t _me_ , they were _him_. And I wanted to stop being him as fast as possible. I obviously couldn’t cut off my tail, or my tongue. So, I pierced my horns. I added tattoos to the things there already. I wear horridly stylish clothes because I am the only one who can pull it off. This is _me_. Not him, _me_.”  

Gulping, Fjord turned away from his friend, staring intently at the file in his hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, deciding that he had better things to do than listen to Molly preach self-love. He raised the file to his lips and began grinding his tusks again, slower this time but enough to let Molly know the conversation was over.

The presence by his side didn’t move and while he filed down the ugly nubs, Fjord felt the uncomfortable staring over his shoulder, making him bite down hard on the file. He swore there would be teeth marks. Spinning around, Fjord saw Molly looking at him with a troubled, sympathetic kind of look. Anger bubbled deep in his chest, Fjord didn’t want his pity, but at least it wasn’t one of disappointment. “What?” He snapped, glaring at the tiefling.

Molly didn’t look away from the file, the ugly, uneven, thin, worn, old, bent, slightly rusted file. He slowly blew air out of his nose. “Well,” he began, slowly walking past Fjord and into the bedroom, fiddling in his coin pouch before making his way to the door that led to the hallway. “If you’re intent on continuing, the least I can do is get you a better file.” The door opened and Molly was gone, leaving Fjord to stand there in stunned silence.

Standing there in the mirror, Fjord followed a thin trail of blood from between his gums that had silvered free and travelled down his skin. “A new file?” He muttered to himself, confusion, a too early wake up and the numbed throb of pain from his mouth muddling his thoughts into a confused jumble. “I don’t need a new file. This one is fine, it’s done me good these years. I’m almost done anyway.” Raising it once more, Fjord sharply filed down the remaining points back down to their tiny nubs, feeling whole and complete for the first time in months when the door opened and Molly walked in.

He was empty handed, no pouches on him and the gold he had grabbed before was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d you go?” Fjord asked, spitting blood and white grit into the sink and cleaning his file with a wet towel. He eyed Molly without turning his head, watched his friend leaning against the towel rack by the shower. They were lucky, Fjord knows, to get rooms at the inn with their own bathrooms.

“I just went to see Yasha,” Molly replied, watching Fjord clean up, place the newly cleaned file back in its brown leather case, worn and old, creases and wrinkles and rips spread across the front like paint on a canvas. “Maybe I should have given her more gold and she could have brought you a better case for it.” He mumbled as an afterthought, so quiet his green-skinned friend couldn’t hear. Fjord wrapped the file up and hid the case in one of the pouches on his hip. Jester had insisted on getting him pouches because his armour didn’t have pockets, so Fjord was forced to buy satchels and sacks that sat on his hip. He would put the case back in his bag when Molly leaves. He doesn’t want him knowing where the half-orc puts his personal belongings.

“She coming over?” Fjord asked, changing the subject.

“Soon, when she takes care of it.” Was Molly’s cryptic answer and he watched the blur of purple disappear from the corner of his eye, back into the bedroom. The creaking of bedsprings told Fjord that his friend was on the bed, and he leant against the sink, letting out a silent sigh of deep exasperation and exhaustion. Standing, Fjord washed his hands again and followed.

Molly was reclining on his bed with his hands crossed behind his head and one leg bent, the sheets messy and out of place, the pillow halfway out of its cover. He watched Fjord as he walked in and crossed the room to his own bed. “Feeling better?” Molly asked, and frowned deeply as Fjord grunted, nodded, but didn’t say anything. “Good. Does it hurt?”

Fjord shook his head. “Just tender.” He replied, lisping and slurring, lying down on his own bed, neatly made, and stared up at the ceiling, running his tongue over the bleeding gums and freshly chipped tusks. “It’ll be fine by the afternoon. Just can’t eat anything till then”

“Too bad.” Molly feigned disinterest, leaning back further on the bed. “Beau said she was going to go all out for breakfast. Bacon, cheese, ale, eggs- the lot.”

Fjord chucked. “I don’t doubt it.”

“I don’t know how she’s ever going to afford it,” Molly was focusing on his claws, picking at the polish flaking off and dimly wondering if Jester will paint them again. “I sure as hell know I’m not pitching in. I’ll buy my own breakfast if I have to.”

Instead of answering, Fjord let out a breathy laugh through his nose, turning over on the bed to face Molly instead of the ceiling, closing his eyes as the determination and adrenaline faded from his system to be replaced with dreary fatigue. Molly stared at him intently, nails ignored.

“You know…” He started, not meeting Fjords eyes as his friend glared at him. “I know why you do it. I really do. And I don’t agree and I don’t condone it but… I don’t want you to get hurt doing it, because I know I can’t stop you.”

“What are you talking about Mollymauk?” Fjord asked, exasperated.

Before Molly could answer, there was a sharp sequence of knocks on the door, and Molly was looking up with a smile at it. “Come in dear.”

Shyly, a strong, scared hand pushed through the door and grabbed the edge, pushing it open fully so Yasha could shove her way through, something gold and glittery, long and edged held in her hand. In the other was a handful of gold, which she promptly threw at Molly’s head, who caught it with a laugh. “Didn’t enjoy it?” He giggled with a cheeky grin, smile displaying his fangs. “Sorry dear.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she grumbled, a small smile playing on the edge of her lips as she made her way to Molly’s bed and sat down, the frame creaking and sinking slightly under her weight. “You got some change too.”

“How did you manage that?” Molly questioned, counting the coin out in his hand.

“Well,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I may have said the wrong thing. Again.”

A severe look of worry raced across Molly’s features to quickly be replaced by excited rapture. Fjord was still silent on the bed, watching the interaction unfold. “What did you say?” the tiefling asked, putting the gold away.

“I told him if he didn’t give me what I asked for he would regret it.” She mumbled, staring at her lap. “And I think I scared the poor boy so he searched for the most expensive and well-crafted one they had in stock and gave it to me. He told me not to pay, but I gave him some anyway.” She looked up with a grin then. “I also found some more flowers, ones I haven’t seen before. They were blue and purple, pretty little flecked things, I put them in my book.”

“That’s lovely dear,” Molly smiled, taking the thing from Yasha. “Show me on the cart. It’s been a while since I’ve seen your collection.”

“What did you buy?” Fjord interjected, tired of being ignored and silent. They looked at him, and was that _concern_ on Yasha’s face?

“I told you,” Molly said, standing up and moving to Fjords bed. “I will let you do it, but I don’t want you hurting yourself. Here-” Molly shoved the gold thing from Yasha’s hands into Fjords and the half-orc blinked.

It was a file. Gold, a blue jewel embedded on the rounded bottom, crisscrossing the handle were thin bands of platinum. The actual head was rough, high value, also gold and thin but with the glittering quality that told Fjord another material was hidden. The cap of the file was impeded in the same blue gems, gold filigree covered every inch and it suddenly gave Fjord the familiarly of pulling his falchion from its sheath.

Fjord was momentarily stunned. “What’s this?” He asked once his words returned. He felt light-headed and it had nothing to do with the throbbing from his tusks.

“This, my green grizzly friend,” Molly began, smug look spreading his face into a wicked grin. “Is a new file. A better file. One that can hopefully do what you need without hurting you or damaging your tusks too badly.”

Running his fingers over it, Fjord felt the rough texture of the file. “Why?” He questioned, eyes darting from Molly to Yasha and back again. “This must have been expensive; how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” Yasha said instantly, eyes scorching stern holes into his soul. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“I told you Fjord, I know how you feel.” Molly’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet and soft, making Fjord look up and meet loving and understanding eyes. It was odd- Mollymauk was probably younger than him, only had two years’ worth of memories and life experiences, yet he seemed to have been comforting and looking after others all his life. “I really do. I understand why you do it. I don’t like it but I won’t stop you. You know, sometimes the best kind of lesson is nice ones. Positive reinforcement.”

A small smile curled across the corner of Fjords face. “I’m not sure that's right.”

Molly shrugged. “I don’t care. If this is what you choose to do to make yourself feel comfortable, then I’m gonna at least let you do it safely.” He put his hand on Fjord shoulder. “Now let’s get our stuff ready and get the hell out of this blasted town. If I have to have one more person give me a greasy I may do something drastic. Besides, Jester is probably looking for us by now and-”

A quick, frantic knock on the door made them all look towards it, and Jesters voice floated into the room through the wood. “Fjord? Molly? Are you in there? Are you asleep?” She gasped. “Are you _naked_?”

Molly laughed. “Yes Jester, I am completely in the nude. Was there something you needed?”

“What are you doing in there then?”

Molly sent Fjord a side eye, fangs showing as his grin got wider. “Just teaching Fjord about some tusk loving.” A flirty purple wink, a red blush on green skin. “Did you need something?”

“Yes yes!” Came the overjoyed voice from beyond the door. “I was just coming to tell you that we have to leave soon! Caleb and Nott headed off to that crappy magic shop that wouldn’t let us in the other day Molly, to get more magic things for Caleb- Beau is already waiting in the cart. Have you seen Yasha? Is she in there with you? I can’t find her anywhere.”

Clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, Yasha looked at Molly and shook her head, eyes bright with subdued giggles. “No, she’s not here.” Molly lied. “Maybe she went to pick some flowers? You should go and help her.”

After a slight pause, Jester’s feet could be heard jumping up and down on the wooden floor. “Ok, I will do that! Beau kept some food for you because you missed breakfast, so meet us at the cart!” Her feet padded away down the stairs.

Mollymauk hauled Fjord to his feet, putting his other arm on Yasha’s shoulder as he led them out of the room. “Well,” He said with a contented sigh. “We’d better get going before Nott eats all of the breakfast they kept. I’m sure Beau poisoned it, that feels like something she’d do.”

Fjord let Molly drag him down the creaking wooden stairs and out into the open square, newly dulled tusks tingling painfully in the cool morning air, Yasha looking around the courtyard at all the passers-by and Molly rambling on about Beau being a pain the whole way to the cart with one hand raised high to reach Yasha’s shoulder and the other on Fjords.

By the time they reached the cart, Fjord ran his tongue over the newly cut numbs and his thumb over the file tucked snugly in a satchel and realised that there was nothing wrong with a little tusk love.


End file.
